


Could You Love Me Anyway

by littlebitlostandfound



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: F/F, Rashes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebitlostandfound/pseuds/littlebitlostandfound
Summary: Anne liked to sketch, and she was rather good at it.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Could You Love Me Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Rashes AU inspired by universe-universe-youre-m-i-ne.

Anne liked to sketch, and she was rather good at it.

Her parents took notice of it when she was quite young, but rather than enrolling her in art classes, they constantly supplied her with whatever she needed, so she never went without paper and a set of pencils growing up.

She doesn’t have a specific focus, she would sketch leaves and buildings and animals—sometimes people, but never in detail. She draws almost everything that catches her fancy, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when she finds herself starting to draw more of her. 

She starts out with little portraits and profile sketches, and she attempts to capture her unique expressions with the stroke of her pencil, filling in every dimple, every crease, every arch of her eyebrow and the sparkle in her eye, almost getting it but not quite. It frustrates her a bit. 

She never shows Cathy her sketches, she would probably think that it’s strange that she’s all she ever draws now. 

“What are you working on?” Cathy asks, trying to peer over Anne’s shoulder to see, but Anne’s hands are quick and covers it immediately. 

“Not finished yet,” Anne responds, turning her head to kiss her cheek. She melts into it, hums. “Soon.” 

Cathy’s skin condition had kept her starved for human contact, so the minute she realized that she was finally able to touch again, she takes what she can get (and Anne makes sure she gets a lot). 

But one moment constantly renders her speechless, that has her mind reeling whenever she thinks about it, and she just knew that she had to draw it, draw her. 

Cathy had knocked on the door of the guest room, peeping inside to see Anne resting against the headboard and reading one of her manuscripts. 

“You busy?” Anne shakes her head, and gulps when Cathy enters the room with only a towel covering her body. She sits in front of Anne, her knees hugged to her chest and her back towards her. With a deep breath, she lowers down the towel to expose her bare back. 

“They usually don’t bother me but they sting really bad today,” Cathy starts, her voice timid, and pushes a tube of medicated cream towards her. “Um, would you mind?” 

“No, not at all.” 

Anne squeezes a generous amount on her palm and Cathy jumps slightly at the cold cream touching her skin. Anne gently works her hands around, making sure to cover all the angry red marks that littered her back—some of them blistered, some of them healing, but she gives all of them equal attention.

Waves of relief wash over Cathy as Anne balms her wounds, and she goes red as she moans at the sensation. 

“Feels good?” Anne muses, running her thumbs in between her shoulder blades and Cathy leans her cheek on her knees, nodding against it. 

Anne gently rests her hands on Cathy’s hips and slowly snakes them around her waist, holding her close against her. Anne leans forward and presses the lightest of kisses against her nape, breathing sweet nothings into her spine in hopes that her love would help her skin heal faster. 

Anne didn’t want to forget Cathy’s brave vulnerability that night, so she opens up a new page on her largest sketchbook and starts drawing her most intimate portrait of Cathy to date. She works well into the night until her eyes feel heavy, and after drowsily signing her work with a flourish, she eventually gives in to sleep. 

The next morning, Cathy enters Anne’s room without warning and sees her sprawled out on the bed, graphite pencil in hand and charcoal smudged against her cheek. With a soft chuckle, Cathy takes the tool from Anne’s weak grasp but she forgets her next move when she spots the open page next to her sleeping form. 

Cathy doesn’t know how to react, seeing a detailed replica of her back, scars and scabs and all, immortalized in paper. She looks at it once over, and tears prick at her eyes when she sees the title and signature at the bottom. 

“ _Survivor,_ ” Cathy reads in a whisper, running her finger across the word.

“It’s true, you know,” Anne’s sleepy voice interrupted her thoughts, and Cathy instantly feels ashamed for looking at her work without her knowing. Anne immediately senses her hesitation and she brings her down to bed with her, spooning her from the back. Anne grabs the sketchbook and puts it in Cathy’s grasp before wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. 

Cathy holds Anne’s heart in her hands, her fingers itching to turn the pages. 

“Go ahead, love, you can look. They’re all finished.” 


End file.
